


Take Me Instead

by kelex



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, all's well that ends well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 22:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20317270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: He'd do anything to protect his friends... his family, even.





	Take Me Instead

**Author's Note:**

> “Take me instead” square, Ineffable Husbands Bingo. We’re nearing the home stretch, folks! I got five more squares to go.

Not surprisingly, it happened at the bookshop. 

Closed to the public, it nevertheless had people in there. It was, in fact, the site of a twelfth birthday party for a young boy. It was actually a second party, with a third on the books for tomorrow. But Adam's parents had given him a small party with Them in tow, and then Aziraphale had insisted that he and Crowley had to throw a party for Adam as well, calling it a  _ Not The End of the World  _ party. But there was a cake, three tiers tall, with candles and presents, and then Anathema was planning on a party of her own. 

So it was a shock to everyone when the ground suddenly started to rumble and pitch. Adam's eyes grew wide because he very much remembered that instant when Satan had ruptured through the tarmac and into the world. 

“Gather round, all of you, and get behind Aziraphale!” Crowley shouted. 

The children did as they were told, pulling Adam with them. Aziraphale uncased his wings, the wide span dropping to conceal them. Anathema shoved Newt under the counter and stood beside the angel, ready to help. 

Satan himself erupted through the floor. Shocking everyone, he appeared to be in a human guise, towering taller than the others. His crown of horns pushed through the top of the human’s skull, and the eye sockets were burned out to show Satan’s bright red eyes instead. “I want the boy,” he growled out with no preamble. “It's time to come back home, boy, and pay for what you've done.” 

It took barely a flicker of his arm, and Satan threw Aziraphale aside like a doll. His wings swept Anathema off her feet and threw her against the bookcase. 

Pepper, Brian, and Wensley were standing in front of Adam. Satan raised his fist, but Crowley got there first. “Don't just dither, run!” His head shifted to that of a giant snake and he sunk both venomous fangs into Satan’s arm. 

Screamed when Satan’s backhand snapped one of his fangs off. The kids were running, but not fast enough. A red fist wrapped around them all, and dragged them back to stand in front of Satan. 

The first flick of his finger threw Pepper across the room. Brian followed, and Wensleydale landed on top. That left Adam in Satan’s grip. Both Crowley and Aziraphale surged to their feet, but Aziraphale's voice rang out first. “Take me instead.” 

“Not without me,” Crowley shouted, so fast their words overlapped. He knew what the angel was going to say before it was even said. But he continued on solo. “You’re not mad at the boy, not really. You’re mad at me. I’m the one who screwed up the baby swap. I’m the one who raised the wrong child for six years, I killed Ligur, I discorporated Hastur, and every single time I’ve done a minor evil It’s been a giant  _ FUCK YOU _ to the great bloody apocalyptic plan! I’m the one you want, I’m the one who’s been thwarting you ever since I slithered onto this bloody little planet, and if you really want to take it out on somebody, I can take anything you can dish out.”

“Crowley, no!” Aziraphale was reaching towards the demon even as Satan swept him up in a tight fist. “Put him down this instant!”

Satan’s laughter filled the bookshop. “Stupid little angel, why on Earth would I do that? He’s quite right, he’s well earned the punishment he’s going to get.”

Adam pushed Pepper and Brian off, and pulled himself to his feet. He was scared, deep down instead he was terrified, but he walked to stand beside Aziraphale and slipped his hand into the angel’s. “Put my godfather down,” he said calmly, no tremor of fear in his voice even as it shook the rest of him. “Now.”

Crowley grunted harshly when Satan’s grip tightened around his midsection. “Boy, be glad that I am leaving with him instead of what I came for. But don’t you worry, I will see you again. You were born of Hell, boy, and to Hell you will return.”

Wensleydale was pulling himself to his feet and brushing plaster out of his hair. “Actually, as it’s been explained to us, Adam made it so that you were no longer his father, that you never actually were. Therefore, he’s no longer born of Hell, and unless he’s been really bad when he dies, he won’t be coming back to Hell, either.”

Crowley gave a short scream, and then laughed painfully. “You tell ‘em, boy! Face that horny bastard down and tell him he’s not all that. Sulking in the basement because Mom kicked him and his buddies out.” More laughing, and it ended on a hard wheeze as he felt Satan’s nails piercing his torso. “I should have done it years ago, but I was afraid. Not anymore, because I am not on your side any longer. I’m on my own side, and I renounce you!”

Satan’s hold on Crowley was broken by the sudden uncasing of a pair of white wings. A second set had sprung forth from Crowley’s shoulder blades, and instead of hitting the floor, Crowley hovered in midair. His hair grew bright red and long, wrapping around him like armor, and in his hand appeared a glowing spear. The light from Crowley’s spear slammed through Aziraphale.

The angel lifted into the air, crying out as a second set of black wings sprung forth from his back. The suit and bow tie fell away to reveal Celestial armor and a flaming sword that he had no idea how he’d regained. 

Between them, Adam rose into the air, his eyes glowing a forceful, angry red. He floated between the two, reaching out for each of their hands. 

A high-pitched singing filled the bookshop, as if the sound of a million million voices were all united in singing the same words in absolutely perfect harmony.

At the sound of the host, Satan’s fear turned sour and it was almost a tangible thing in the bookshop. Both Crowley and Aziraphale were glowing with Heavenly radiance, the flaming sword and fiery spear pointed at Satan unwaveringly, Adam still hovering between them full of menace. 

Satan moved to raise his hand, to strike out at the demon who renounced him, and hundreds of the host changed their song to a fever pitch, a note of warning held for an eternity. Looking around, then up, he stepped back, letting his hand fall back to his side. 

The host returned to the same song, letting the warning note fade away as if it had never been sung. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Michael descended in a bolt of lightning, appearing between Satan and the others. “And you aren’t supposed to have those,” they added, looking over their shoulder at Crowley and Aziraphale’s newly discovered dual wingspans.

“Might want to check with your boss about that,” Crowley answered, and although his voice sounded the same, it was deeper and more profound than Aziraphale had ever heard it. His red hair swirled around him, and his skin seemed dotted with sparkles that Aziraphale realized were the echoes of stars.

“Your boss too, by the looks of it.” Michael turned their attention back to Satan. “You were the best loved of us once, and for the sake of that love, I’m going to give you a chance to go back where you belong before I throw you back there myself.” 

“Still sucking up to Mom, I see.” Satan sneered, but he knew when he had lost. Michael alone could easily best him, but if the other angels joined Michael, and the boy threw in his power, too… that was a defeat that Satan wasn’t certain he could come back from. “I will find a way,” he threatened, and the words lingered on after the earth rumbled and pulled him back down. The breached earth sealed, and the heavenly light cut off in an instant.

Crowley and Aziraphale landed hard on their feet, stumbling to catch Adam who landed lightly between them. Michael did their best to ignore the Antichrist. “Now, how did you get those back?” they asked, nodding towards Crowley’s second wings.

“Oh, don’t look at me, I just renounced Satan is all. Then these things just popped out.” Crowley shifted his shoulders and set both pairs fluttering. “Been an age of the world since I had the other pair.”

“I should think so; they were ripped from you when you fell,” Michael retorted. 

“Perhaps the Almighty decided to reward Crowley’s decision to renounce Hell?” Aziraphale suggested helpfully, while in the background, Anathema and Newt were helping to pick up and check out the children, looking for injuries. 

“If that were the case, they’d both be white, and you wouldn’t have a pair of black wings,” Michael snapped back. “What else did you say?”

“Er, that I wasn’t afraid anymore, that I was on my own side, and--”

“That did it. Only you would repent halfway.” They shook their head. “I suppose you went the same way? Said you were on your own side?”

“Certainly,” Aziraphale answered. “It’s the only side worth being on.” 

“Wonderful. A half-repentant demon and a half-fallen angel. The paperwork on this is going to take forever. There’s going to have to be an entirely new classification for you, and you’ll probably be declared a protected species.” Michael heaved a disgusted sigh. “Metatron’s going to have a lot to answer for when I get back up there.”

“Excuse me, but, does that mean you won’t be trying to hurt them any more?” Adam looked up at Michael, steely-eyed and cautious.

“Unfortunately, yes, I think so. Of course, this is all a guess on my part. I might get up to Heaven and find out this is all another funny joke that you’ve pulled on us, like that arrangement you had. Bloody demon doing miracles. I swear, trying to sort that out is going to take another century. There shall be a rather stern note in your file, Aziraphale.”

“I wipe my ass with your stern note,” Brian interjected, snorting with laughter in the background. “It’s like getting a note from the Teacher to take home to your mother. How’s she gonna know?” Anathema grabbed Brian by the arm, dragging him back a few steps and hissing in his ear not to back-talk the archangel Michael.

Crowley turned his laugh into a cough, but he was still smirking when he glanced over his shoulder.  _ Nice one, kid _ , he mouthed carefully, then turned back to Aziraphale.

Who was actually echoing that sentiment, in slightly more polite terms. “You may put whatever note you like in my file, I don’t actually care any longer.” But then he paused. “I could certainly volunteer portions of my diary in which I kept account of those things. If it would make processing the paperwork go faster, of course.” 

Michael caught onto that really quickly. Help sorting through the paperwork for leaving this out of the file. “All right, I’ll collect it from you first thing tomorrow. I’ve got quite a bit to do upstairs before then, though, so if you will excuse me.”

“Oh, by the way.” Crowley put a hand on Michael’s arm to stop them leaving. “Thanks for the towel, dude.” 

Michael jerked involuntarily, their eye twitching at the memory. “Let’s all just pretend that never happened,” they spat through gritted teeth. Because that had been embarrassing for  _ both _ sides. “You too, Principality. It. Never. Happened.”

“If that’s the way you want the official record to read, I won’t argue with it,” Aziraphale agreed amiably. “But I shan’t be forgetting it, either.” He gave a little wave of his fingers as Michael disappeared in another lightning bolt.

Crowley hit the floor, groaning softly as he let the piercing wounds from Satan’s claws bleed out. “Wasn’t going to give that bastard the satisfaction,” he said in a rush, breath knocked out of him as he fell.

“Silly, stupid serpent!” Aziraphale went to his knees beside Crowley and snapped the demon’s torso bare. Four deep punctures, from neck to belly, bled freely. Anathema leaned over, sniffing delicately. “Excuse me, please!” Aziraphale fussed, pushing her back.

“You can’t heal that,” Anathema answered, looking over at Newt. “Not yet, anyway. Go out to--” and here, an expression of physical pain crossed her face. “Go out to Dick Turpin and bring in my bag.”

“I certainly can,” Aziraphale replied, sounding quite offended.

“No, I mean, those wounds are dirty. They’re infested with something, something nasty.” She sniffed again. “Maybe hemlock, or white snakeroot, but that’s not native here.”

Aziraphale hesitated, then touched one of Crowley’s wounds and brought his bloody fingertips to his nose. “Yes, you’re right. There is something in there… how on Earth did you smell that and I didn’t?”

“Because I’m used to plant toxins because I use them in some of my spellwork. Nothing like this, but it pays to be familiar with everything.” 

“Here you go.” Newt handed over the bag, and then crouched on Crowley’s other side. “Want me to take the kids outside for a bit while you take care of this?”

Anathema nodded. “Yes, thank you. Aziraphale, you’ll be my second?”

“Oi, still here, you know.” Crowley scowled at the witch and the angel discussing him as if he weren't even there. 

“Shut up and concentrate on not bleeding,” Aziraphale snapped. “Of course I’ll assist you.”

“Good. Take this and draw a circle around him.” She handed Aziraphale a bar of white chalk. “Nothing fancy, no sigils, just a circle. Then once it’s closed, step out of it and don’t cross into it again,” she instructed, unloading other items from her bag.

Aziraphale took the chalk, and was careful not to imbue the circle with any of his own energy. He didn’t want to take the chance of his magic interfering with Anathema’s. Starting at the tip of Crowley’s toes, he drew a full half-circle, and paused for a moment. Crowley was pale, but no more so than usual, and both sets of his wings were still out, although his hair had returned to normal. 

Shaking his head, he continued drawing the circle, and then knelt beside Anathema, waiting for the next instructions. 

She had none. An incense burner filled with sage was already smoking, and she’d put it at his feet. A large white pillar candle was already lit, and burning at Crowley’s head. By his right had was a small metal bowl filled with salt, and by the left hand, another bowl of water. “It’s not holy water, don’t worry.” 

Getting to her feet, she moved to the candle first. “By fire I bless thee, to burn the poison from you.” Dipping her fingers into the melted wax, she flicked some onto Crowley’s forehead. Then she moved to his right hand. “By earth I bless thee, to leach the poison from you.” Just as she had with the wax, Anathema flicked salt over Crowley’s open wounds. He hissed, back arching as the salt touched the blood, and small tendrils of wispy black smoke oozed out.

Aziraphale started to move forward, but then remembered what he’d been told about not breaking the circle. 

At Crowley’s feet, Anathema picked up the incense burner and swung it back and forth over Crowley’s body. “By air I bless thee, to carry the poison from you.”

Crowley hissed again, groaning as the black wisps became stronger, oozing out faster and leaching black onto his skin. 

“Anathema?” Aziraphale said, worry causing his tone to rise at the end of her name.

“Shush.” She moved to his other hand, and picked up the bowl of water. “By water I bless thee, to wash the poison from you.” Tilting the bowl, she poured the contents over Crowley’s bare chest.

Steam and smoke rose in twin columns from Crowley’s skin. A thick, tarry discharge poured out of the punctures, roiling and twisting as if it were alive. 

“More water, not holy, but cold as you can,” Anathema ordered. “Buckets.”

That Aziraphale could do. The bookshop had, thanks to Crowley, a rain garden in the back, complete with a barrel that was full to the brim with cold London rain. He miracled two buckets without hesitation, dipped them both full, and carried them back to Anathema. “Cold enough?”

Anathema dipped her hand into the bucket, and nodded, wiping it off on her skirt. “Yeah, that’s good. Go ahead, pour it over him, help wash that stuff out of him.” 

Aziraphale poured the first bucket over Crowley’s chest, and was shocked to see the heavy rivulets of polluted black that poured out. The second bucket was more rinse than wash, and the black sludge was nearly gone. He made another trip, carrying back two more buckets, and dashed the first one over Crowley again. It rinsed clear, and Anathema stopped him. “Here, pick him up, and get him out of that.”

“I can move,” Crowley pointed out, even though his breathing was filled with pain. “Witch girl, you’re handy to have around in a crisis.” 

“Thank you, I think.” Anathema cleared the incense and dishes out of Aziraphale’s way. “Once you move him, you should be able to heal him, and just let that candle burn itself out. Newt and I will take Them home, and I’ll call tomorrow to see if you feel like coming down to Tadfield for Adam’s party.”

Crowley protested with a squawk as Aziraphale lifted him up and moved him to the couch, and pouted up at the angel. “Warn a demon when you’re gonna sweep him off his feet.” 

Aziraphale ignored both protest and pout. “You are supposed to be quietly imagining that you are not bleeding,” he reminded. “We will be there tomorrow, at three PM sharp. And if it’s all right with you, we’ll bring Adam’s gifts along, since he didn’t get a chance to open them today.”

“It’s fine.” Anathema got to her feet. “Although if you wanted to be a really nice person, you’d offer to let me come by and copy those diagrams from  _ Diabolica Discoursio _ ,” she added with a wink. 

“Whenever you wish to come by, the book will be at your disposal,” Aziraphale promised. “Although I should clarify that it isn’t because of what you did for Crowley, it’s because you are a friend. And friends are always welcome here.”

“I heard my name.” Adam stuck his head back in the door. “Is everything all right?”

“It will be very soon,” Aziraphale agreed. “Thank you, Adam, for everything you did today.” 

Adam shrugged it off, because he wasn’t used to adults thanking him for anything. Aziraphale was the odd one like that. “You and Crowley did the same thing for me,” he pointed out. “I figure that anyone who’s got that much love in them has got to be worth standing up for.” He transferred his gaze to Anathema. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure, and if you’re hungry we’ll stop on the way and pick up something to eat.” Anathema closed her bag and shook Aziraphale’s hand. “Hope you feel better soon, Crowley.”

“Will do!” the demon sang out. “Oi, Adam!”

The boy paused at the shout of his name. “Yeah?”

“Honored to be your godfather, is all.” Crowley laid his head back down and closed his eyes, concentrating as he’d been instructed on not bleeding out. 

“Course you are, what else would you two be?” Adam waved as he followed Anathema out to the car, wedging into the back seat with the rest of the Them. 

Aziraphale stood in the doorway and watched the absurd little Wasabi trundle off, and then turned back to Crowley. “Let’s get you fixed up.” He laid his hand on Crowley’s chest, and a warm glow suffused the demon’s body. Each puncture closed up tight, puckering into scars that faded into perfectly smooth skin. “There, that was easy.”

Crowley reached out and caught Aziraphale’s wrist. “Angel. Don’t… don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?” Aziraphale looked puzzled.

“Take me instead,” he repeated. “To Satan, of all the people in the world… well, beings, anyway, of all the beings in the world, you volunteer to go to hell?”

“Oh, that. Well, yes, of course. I wasn’t about to let him take the boy. ”

“Nor was I,” Crowley pointed out. “But you just jumped in there and offered yourself up. He would have killed you, Aziraphale. Not just inconvenient discorporation, but killed you. I can’t have that, not any more.”

Aziraphale smiled kindly at Crowley, and linked their hands. “You were worried about me, dearest? You shouldn’t. I had no intention of actually going anywhere with Lucifer, even if he had accepted the offer. But speaking of people who shouldn’t ever do that again, Crowley, if you offer yourself in someone else’s place, I’ll…. I’ll….” He faltered, trying to think of something appropriate. “I’ll take every pair of sunglasses you own and recycle them.”

Crowley laughed at that, because Aziraphale was utterly serious. “How about you take me instead, angel?”

“That might certainly be arranged.”

The End


End file.
